


scarce stir a leaf

by Ro29



Series: on learning to fly [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: First Flight, Fluff, Force-Sensitives have Wings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Childhood Trauma, Implied/Referenced Past Slavery, Leap of Faith, Learning to Fly, Light Angst, Padawan Anakin Skywalker, References to Tatooine, Wingfic, mostly just happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:55:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28018089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro29/pseuds/Ro29
Summary: Skywalker, he used to think to himself, a little bitter, wanting desperately to fly, to embody his name.He knew, with the same certainty of all children, that as long as he was on Tatooine, he could never fly.But the Temple is far,faraway from Tatooine.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Shmi Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Series: on learning to fly [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036284
Comments: 18
Kudos: 133





	scarce stir a leaf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lastbattlecry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastbattlecry/gifts), [aroacejoot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroacejoot/gifts).



> Cry is a wonderful enabler who gave me the idea of the whole leap of faith thing (styled, he says, after something from Assassain's Creed) Tinker is an amazing, wonderful person who has been helping me worldbuild this au and making sense of things i never would've thought about so massive thank you to her!
> 
> title from paul laurance dunbar's 'preparation'

On Tatooine, slaves were not allowed to fly.

Winged slaves were something rarer, something dangerous.

A slave with wings was a slave who could escape, who could cause trouble and try to sneak away to Freedom.

Winged slaves, on Tatooine, did not often stay winged for long. Most had their wings clipped or taken away entirely as soon as they were bought.

Those slaves always had an underlying sense of agony that followed them around like sand, clinging tight and seeping into every crack, leaking out and leaving a trail of suffering behind them.

Anakin is an outlier in this.

He is only nine, but he knows he is an outlier in the fact that he was allowed to keep his wings despite it all.

He doesn't know why, doesn’t know what made the Masters decide he could keep them. Thinks that, maybe in this, the Force was at least looking out for him a little bit. Helped to turn the Masters thoughts away from the potential problems his wings could become.

He doesn’t know, and he is a mix of grateful that he never lost them and angry that it was ever a fear. The angry part of him is the part that refuses to be grateful to the Masters for not taking away a part of himself.

(When Anakin was little, tinier than he is now, back before Watto won Mama and him, he remembers Gardulla buying a winged slave. Remembers the way that the slave had shook and pressed their wings tight against their back, as if that might help them to keep them. Remembers how the slaves were forced to watch the spectacle Gardulla made out of cutting the slave’s wings away, the way Mama and he had been forced to watch.

He remembers, most of all, the terror and pain that had bled off of the slave, the way he’d gripped tightly to his mother, tiny and scarred and horrified and in a type of phantom pain that made tears well up in his eyes.

He hadn’t cried, but he remembers, vividly, wanting to. Remembered too, the way his mother had held his hand desperately, fearful and silent.)

Whatever the reason, Anakin was allowed to keep his wings.

But he was never allowed to fly.

Anakin, despite his wings, had spent the first nine years of his life chained to the ground in every way except through manacles.

The threat of what the Master’s would do if they found him flying, the bomb under his skin and his loved one’s skin, the promised punishments for if he ever even _thought_ of it, those were all more than enough to stop him. To keep him from ever thinking of trying to take to the sky, to try and soar through the air and leave the Masters all behind.

That does not mean that he didn’t want to, that he didn’t crave it with everything in him, second only to how desperately he craved both freedom for his mother and himself, and how much he hated slavery.

_Skywalker_ , he used to think to himself, a little bitter, wanting desperately to fly, to embody his name.

He knew, with the same certainty of all children, that as long as he was on Tatooine, he could never fly.

But the Temple is far, _far_ away from Tatooine.

Anakin looks over the edge of the spire, eyes the long fall with something like anticipation burning up in his chest.

Obi-Wan is waiting at the bottom, and Anakin can’t make him out from this high up, but he can feel the steady anticipation through their bond, can feel the joy and the faith Obi-Wan has in him.

It is like a cool compress against his cheek, a balm for his anxieties. The knowledge that Obi-Wan is down there and watching both soothes the worry in his heart that he will fail and makes him want, desperately, to do well.

He has spent the entire ten-day leading up to this buzzing with fear; fear that he is too far behind to catch up, fear that he will fall instead of fly, fear that no one will catch him and that he will prove useless in all of this.

He looks over the edge of the spire, breathes in the cool air, feels it brush against his face, the excitement building in his chest, he looks back at the supervisor and they smile at him, “When you’re ready, Padawan Skywalker.”

Anakin grins, the fluttery feeling expanding in his chest, feathers ruffling as he bounces in place.

He’s spent the entire ten-day before this afraid, but now, on the edge of the spire, with Obi-Wan below him and his wings a steady presence on his back, he feels only happiness.

Excitement mixed in with the sense of _rightness_ at the calling of the air to his heart, the calling of flight he hadn’t realized was embedded in his bones.

He breathes, rolls his shoulders back and stands up straight, looks at the vast expanse of Coruscant and exhales, gives one last nervous look back to the supervisor and bites his lip, grins and takes another breath.

He _dives_.

His heart jumps at the feeling, the way his stomach gives a twirl and the air rushes all around him, wraps around him like a blanket. The feeling of the freefall makes his heart beat, makes his chest expand with nervous joy and a rush of energy, pushes a peal of delighted laughter out of his chest and into the air.

He opens his wings, catches the air and gives a flap, heart in his throat.

It takes a few tries, and Anakin’s excitement wavers each try, but finally, _finally_ he gets the hang of it, arms at his sides and wings flapping in an even beat, catching the wind and keeping him in the sky.

He cheers, and the sky echoes with his laughter. That almost overwhelming happiness floods through him, makes him feel like he is light as a feather, glowing like the twin suns.

In the back of his head — tucked away in a place that Anakin thinks links to a spot directly beside his heart — the bond with Obi-Wan bleeds _pride, love, joy, happiness._

Anakin flies, and in the back of his head, a voice like his Mama’s hums, _Skywalker._

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to find me other places I have a [writing tumblr](https://rose-blooms-red.tumblr.com) and a [fandom tumblr](https://themessofthecentury.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please come yell at me about Star Wars and DC!


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